


The Dance

by oOAchilliaOo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cinderella-inspired, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Romance, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/pseuds/oOAchilliaOo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three new rules, she told herself, peeking out into Skyhold's main hall. There would be three new rules for the Inquisition. </p>
<p>One. No matter the advantage offered, they would never again invite the entire Orlesian court to Skyhold.<br/>Two. Any future party held at Skyhold would involve many more pre-dinner drinks. <br/>Three. She would be allowed to veto any fashion choice made for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dance

Three new rules, she told herself, peeking out into Skyhold’s main hall. There would be three new rules for the Inquisition. 

One. No matter the advantage offered, they would never again invite the entire Orlesian court to Skyhold. 

Two. Any future party held at Skyhold would involve many more pre-dinner drinks. 

Three. She would be allowed to veto any fashion choice made for her by either Josephine or Vivienne. 

It wasn’t that the dress she wore tonight wasn’t lovely, because it was, a light blue, diamond-studded corset with layers of tulle spanning out from her hips. The movement in it was beautiful, the layers floating around her as she’d twirled around her room. But it was heavy, and big, and she wasn’t sure quite how she was supposed to navigate the packed hall while wearing it. It was also uncomfortable, the top was tight and constricting and the weight of the tulle always seemed to want to drag her backwards. 

All in all she’d have preferred something smaller, more streamlined. Failing that, the Inquisition uniform from Halamshiral, or even better, her enchanter coat. Though that might possibly have caused something of an uproar. 

She sighed. She supposed she would have to go out there eventually. Face the music, as it were. It wasn’t that she wasn’t capable of handling the court, because she was, and she knew she was. It was more the fact that she had to be the completely confident, witty, charming, ‘sparkly’ her instead of just herself.

Because Maker only knew, Evelyn Trevelyan would never be enough for these people. She had to be ‘the Inquisitor’. Always ‘the Inquisitor’. Only ‘the Inquisitor’.

She sighed heavily again, stepping back from the door and closing her eyes. Carefully, she built the ‘sparkly’ Inquisitor persona up in her head, layer by layer. When it was firmly in place, she snapped her eyes open, squared her shoulders, plastered a wide smile across her face and stepped into the hall. 

A quick sweep of the room revealed that Cullen had not yet arrived. He was probably hiding in his tower until the last possible moment and who could blame him? But Vivienne and Leliana were stood close to the dais, and mostly alone, and that probably wasn’t a bad place to start. 

“My dear, you look wonderful,” Vivienne said, as Evelyn moved to join them

“Surely that’s more a compliment to you rather than me?” Evelyn pointed out, as Vivienne had chosen her dress, hairstyle, make up and accessories.

“Why, of course, my dear. What makes you think I intended otherwise?” Vivienne replied with that kind of warm coldness that only she was really capable of. Evelyn laughed and swiped a glass of wine from a nearby waiter’s tray. 

“So,” she said after taking a sip, okay, a few sips of wine. “How are we doing?” 

As if by magic, Josephine appeared on her left. 

“Well,” she began without need of further invitation. “There are a few individuals you really should meet as soon as possible, and please do try to avoid Duke Valois. He has made it most clear that he’d be interested in an advantageous marriage to you and he will try to sequester you away from the other guests.” She paused, but only to look down at the board she still carried, despite her evening gown. “Most everyone is here, do you think there is enough cheese? Or enough pastries? Perhaps I should warn the kitchens…”

“Everything is lovely, Josephine,” Evelyn assured her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Now, which ones are the ones I should meet?”

She had no idea how this had happened. Josephine had been walking her around the main hall, introducing her to everyone. She’d complimented and charmed and, where necessary, carefully insulted in all the right ways. She’d successfully opened the way for the Inquisition to broker two advantageous trading agreements and had been feeling pretty damn pleased with herself, when somehow she’d found herself completely alone with Duke Valois. 

“I have quite an impressive estate you know,” he was saying, while adopting that frankly ridiculous pose favoured by all Orlesian noblemen.

“Is that so my lord?” she replied, in a bored tone that was just the right side of polite. 

“Oh indeed,” he continued, either ignoring or failing to notice her tone. “The lake is quite beautiful this time of year, and it will soon be hunting season. Perhaps you might join us? A beauty such as yours would simply light up my hall. The manor home has been sadly bereft of a woman’s touch…”

“You flatter me, my lord,” she replied, interrupting him in the same tone as before while also shooting him a terse smile. 

“Oh no at all, my dear girl. Not at all,” he said enthusiastically. “In fact, I do not do you justice.”

He took her hand forcibly from where it rested on her hip and bestowed a single kiss upon her knuckles, all while staring openly at her corset-accentuated cleavage. She tried not to sigh in frustration and instead granted him another terse smile.

“Ah!” he said, having finally torn his gaze from her chest. “The music starts, I wonder if I might…” 

“Pardon me for intruding,” a voice interrupted from behind her. She turned, recognising the voice instantly and sighing in relief. 

Cullen stepped smartly forward, positioning himself between her and the Duke. This allowed her to appraise his appearance. He was wearing a version of the uniform they had all worn in Halamshiral, but rendered this time in beautiful black and silver. The colour somehow made him look taller and broader, and she noted that the buttons on his new coat were exquisitely carved lions heads. On his hip, he carried a ceremonial rapier with a series of small but beautiful jewels encrusted on the hilt. 

“I wondered if I might claim your first dance,” he murmured to her softly, without the Duke hearing. She nodded. It was all she could do, since he appeared to have successfully stolen her breath.   
“Pardon, moi messere,” Duke Valois interjected. “But I was just about to ask the lady to dance with me. Perhaps you should depart and seek some other partner?” 

Cullen managed to keep his face mostly straight, but the twitch she saw in his jaw betrayed his irritation. 

“Apologies,” he said and even his voice was somehow calm. “But the lady had already promised her first dance to me.” 

“Ah, but I am sure that you would not hold it against her were she to renege on her promise, no?” the Duke replied, daring to take an extra step towards her. 

“Please, my lady,” Cullen insisted offering her his hand and ignoring the Duke entirely. 

He was wonderful. Wonderful for not leaving when asked, wonderful for seeking her out when she’d been cornered, wonderful for somehow managing to remain perfectly polite even though she knew every single soldier bone in his body was likely screaming for him to just punch the Duke and get it over with. She offered him one of her genuine smiles, knowing that he’d be able to read her silent thanks in it. 

“Apologies, Duke,” she said as she slipped her hand into Cullen’s. “But it seems my first dance has already been claimed.” 

If the Duke made a reply she didn’t hear it, as Cullen promptly swept her onto the dance floor. She’d thought he would just walk them through the dancers currently taking their positions on the floor but instead he stopped them in the very centre and pulled her around to face him. 

“Cullen…” she began, confused.

“Hush,” he replied just as the music started. She recognised the tune, it was a fairly complicated waltz from Antiva, if she was remembering correctly. She shot a concerned look in Cullen’s direction, remembering the somewhat halting dance they’d shared in Halamshiral.

Cullen looked not in the least bit concerned as he bowed before her. In fact, she would swear she could see a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. He straightened and she curtseyed as she’d been taught to do a lifetime ago. The music began in earnest and he raised his palm just as she raised hers to meet it. In time with the music they circled each other, and even though she was worried about dancing in public, she found she could not tear her eyes from his warm amber gaze as they turned. 

The music changed ever so slightly, picking up speed. She was just about to suggest that they could possibly try sneaking off the floor when Cullen caught her wrist, spun her into the first turn, stepped smartly round her, and caught her perfectly, almost expertly in hold. 

She blinked, surprised. 

“I thought you told me Templars didn’t dance,” she said, teasingly, feeling a smile creep across her face. He merely spun her into the next turn and pulled her back against his chest. 

“And I thought I told you that, for you, I would try,” he murmured into her ear. Two steps back, two forward with him behind her, then the next turn brought them face to face. 

“You took lessons,” she realised, reading the knowing smirk on his face.

“Josephine, may have given me some pointers,” he replied as he lifted her into air and moved her around his body before setting her back on her feet. She openly grinned at him then, and was devoutly grateful that he had managed to convince Josephine into the ‘no masks’ rule, since it allowed her to gaze into his handsome face as they danced. 

Each time he spun her away from him, he caught her perfectly, his movements were graceful, controlled. He was… good, really good, actually, and she allowed herself to relax into the dance as he manipulated her about the floor. Her eyes were full of nothing but him and the smile he wore, the one that she was pretty sure was reserved just for her. 

All too soon, the final chords of the music sounded and Cullen released her hand in order to step back and bow once more. She curtseyed automatically, but already missed the feeling of his arms around her. 

“Well, that was a something of a surprise,” she said. 

He bestowed a light kiss on her knuckles as was the customary thanks for the dance. 

“I wouldn’t want you to grow tired of me,” he replied as he straightened. 

She opened her mouth to protest, shocked that he would think that she could ever grow tired of him, but then saw that he was smiling broadly and realised he was joking. Rolling her eyes at him instead she made to leave the floor but was caught by an arm like a steel band around her waist. 

“He’s waiting for you at the edge of the floor,” he murmured in her ear. True enough, as she looked more closely, she spotted the Duke hovering at the edge of the dance floor, his hungry eyes fixed on her in a way that made her most uncomfortable. Fortunately, he was soon blocked by a far more attractive sight as Cullen stepped around her in order to take her once again in hold. 

“Dance with me,” he said simply even as the music began anew and he moved her into the first steps of the next dance. It was a request she was happy to comply with as she once again lost herself in the movement, trusting his sudden competence in this area. Gone from her mind were the all the nobles she had yet to greet, the knowledge that Josephine would be almost desperate for her, and him for that matter, to dance with other partners. Instead, she just enjoyed the grace with which his body moved, the feeling of her dress spinning out around her, the small but undeniably warm smile that lit up his features and the simply wonderful feeling of being in the arms of the man she loved above all others. 

Then, quite suddenly, he pulled her close, catching her midstep so that she stumbled slightly into him, but he held her firm. 

“Come with me,” he whispered into her ear, stilling their movement completely and using the arm about her waist to push her in the direction of the door of which they now stood outside. 

She blinked, realising that he’d danced them directly out of the door that led to the garden and that the swirling skirts of the remaining dancers would conveniently shield their destination from prying eyes. She opened the door just wide enough for them to slip through, which, considering the size of her dress was actually quite far. He was sure to close it softly behind them. 

It took a moment to become accustomed to the relative darkness of the garden, compared to the bright lights of the ballroom. Presumably for him too, as it was a few moments before he caught her hand in his own and pulled her across the courtyard. 

“This way,” he muttered, as his long stride ate up the ground so much that she had a hard time keeping pace. He didn’t explain where they were going and she didn’t need him to, it was enough just to be with him, alone, and to be able to drop the ‘Inquisitor’ persona. Plain-old Evelyn had always seemed to be enough for him. 

“Here,” he said, stopping and drawing her to his side. “I thought you might like this.” 

It was a few moments before she could tear her gaze from his handsome face in order to look at where he’d brought her. When she did, she saw they were in the far corner of the garden, beside the large willow tree. Someone had taken the time to hang a few paper lanterns from the branches and they cast the entire area in their strange warm glow. Then, hanging from one of the larger branches, she beheld a large, rough, rope-strung, wooden swing. 

“Some of the Chantry sisters set it up for the orphans,” he explained as they stepped closer. “Care to try it?” he added slyly as she stepped eagerly forward, grinning at him as she took her seat. 

He remained where he was for a moment, arms folded across his chest, watching her with a look that was somehow smug and amused and affectionate all at the same time. She settled herself comfortably on the seat as he unfolded himself and came to stand behind her, grasping a rope in each hand. She tilted her head back for a moment in order to share a quick smile with him, before he pulled back the swing and pushed it out again. She couldn’t help it, something about the movement made her feel childlike and carefree and she laughed delightedly as she swung. Behind her she felt him briefly catch the back of her seat before gently pushing her out again so she swung in a slow graceful arc. 

After a few more gentle pushes he caught the ropes once more and halted the movement of the swing entirely. She was about to rise from her seat but before she could he’d turned and seated himself beside her from the opposite direction. One booted leg was curled under him but the other he dropped to the ground and began using it to keep the swing in motion. 

“So,” he began kicking off from the ground and twining his fingers with hers in her lap. “How’re you enjoying the ball?”

“I liked the dancing very much,” she replied, as they swung gently to and fro. 

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

He softly kicked off the ground once more. As they swung out, her grip on the rope tightened as did her grip on his hand. She felt somewhat less secure now she couldn’t hold both ropes. As if reading her thoughts Cullen shifted closer to her, releasing her hand in order to wrap his arm about her waist, keeping her secure. 

She looked up into his face, meaning only to thank him but his movement had brought their faces closer together and his nearness stunned her into silence. After a moment he bent his head and softly, oh so softly, captured her lips. She could no more help the pleased sigh that escaped her than she could help the way she melted into him. He held her firmly as the swing continued to move, almost crushing her to him and yet his kisses remained soft and sweet. 

Eventually their lips parted but she kept her eyes closed, not certain she could handle seeing him on top of the feelings his kisses stirred in her. She felt him press his forehead against her own and took the opportunity to nuzzle him, feeling, rather than hearing, his brief sigh of contentment. 

“We should go back,” she murmured, but made no move to either open her eyes or draw away from him. 

“We should,” he agreed and yet she sensed no movement from him either. The sound of a large round of applause came spilling out of the door to the hall and they automatically broke apart to seek the source of the sound. 

“It’ll be time for the speeches soon,” she said softly, eyes still trained on the door. Cullen merely grunted in response as she sighed heavily and shifted forward so her toes touched the floor. 

“I suppose we had better go back,” he said, coming to stand at her side and wrapping her arm around his own. “As much as I wish we could stay here…” he continued, slowly raising his eyes and fixing her with a heated look she understood all too well. “All night,” he purred as his burning eyes bored into her own. 

She was forced to close her eyes against his onslaught, waiting until the shiver his tone and words had evoked had passed through her entire being. 

“Enough of that,” she chastised him, recovering somehow and opening her eyes. “Or Josephine will have both our heads.” 

He chuckled. “Aye, that’s the truth.” He led them back across the garden. 

“You won’t let me get cornered by that awful Duke again, will you?” she asked him, pausing with one hand on the door handle. 

“I will not leave your side, I swear,” he replied. 

She smiled at him then and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before opening the door and allowing them both to slip back into the hall. 

Somehow, she found the rest of the ball much easier to handle after that.


End file.
